Band of Six
by LJ.Williams
Summary: The founders of Hogwarts return and upend the views that have kept the world at war for decades. Head Boy and Girl are still at each others throats, but from the hate, could there be something more? Rated for future chapters.


**Disclaimer**: All publicly recognizable elements of this story belong to the lovely JKR. I unfortunately…own nada.zip.zilch.zero. save the plot.

**Summary**: The founders of Hogwarts return and upend the views that have kept the world at war for decades. Head Boy and Girl are still at each others throats, but from the hate, could there be something more?

**Author's** **Note**: I've been mulling a story like this one over for a while but haven't, until now, been quite able to work it all out in my head. If you're interested in beta'ing for me, that would be lovely because I know that half the time what I write only makes sense to me.

September 1st found Hermione Granger in a frantic search for her left shoe. The Hogwarts Express would be leaving in exactly two hours and she knew she'd have to leave in precisely 6.35 minutes if she had a chance of making it. She also knew it would reflect badly on her record as the newly appointed Head Girl if she missed it; and she certainly didn't want to give anyone any other reason to doubt her abilities.

Every year, on September 1st, since she was 11 years old, Hermione took a couple of moments to reflect on her life. She had always known that she had abilities other kids didn't have, her mum insisted that Hermione was a 'special little girl' and that one day things wouldn't be so hard.

On June 30th when she was 11 years old, Albus Dumbledore appeared on the doorstep of her parents' home. The visit left her father in a comatose state, but her mother had merely nodded, a knowing smile on her lips.

'_Sure,' she said, 'I knew my daughter was special, she is so special, but, what do we, my husband and I, know about your world? Nothing. Is it safe, how will we pay? We know nothing of your world.' In Albus' eyes there had been a tiny twinkle within the depths of blue, the twinkle Hermione had grown to know and love in her years at Hogwarts. _

'_Mrs. Granger, I refuse to sugar coat our world for you. There are some who choose to believe that they are better. There are some who would not treat your daughter like she had a place in our world because she is muggleborn- excuse me, born to parents of non-magical decent. There are even some who will try to hurt her. But, my lady, I feel it necessary to inform you that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is the safest spot for a muggleborn child to be.'_

'_Who are they people, Albus? The ones who would want to hurt Hermione?'_

'_They are followers of a Dark Lord called Voldemort. His given name is Tom Riddle and he was once a student of mine. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, as he was dubbed during the Great War, is a staunch proponent of blood purity. Death Eaters, the followers of Voldemort, will stop at nothing to cleanse the world of those with impure blood. They believe that muggleborns are not true magic-doers and that they desecrate the foundation of magic.'_

'_But what would make them believe such things?'_

'_Hogwarts was established over a millennium ago by four people called Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, Salazar Slytherin, and Godric Gryffindor. Each founder established a house in their namesake, sorting children into each house based on their qualities as a person. Ravenclaw was characterized by wisdom, Hufflepuff by loyalty, Slytherin by cunning and finally Gryffindor by courage. The first years of Hogwarts were a smashing success but rifts between Godric and Salazar due to their views on blood purity forced the school to split into rivalry. Since then it has been Slytherin house versus Gryffindor House. Today, every known Death Eater has come out of Slytherin house.'_

'_I still don't understand how they could believe that muggleborns are below them- it just doesn't make any sense.'_

'_I know, Mrs. Granger, that this is hard to take in. But for now it's hard for me to answer your question because there is very little founding in the beliefs that muggleborns are of lesser quality than anyone else. The situation we find ourselves in is no different than that of the Holocaust. When people see lacking in themselves they scapegoat onto others. Just as Hitler viewed the Jews as the source of Germany's problems, the Death Eaters feel that muggleborns are the source of all society's wrongs. It is unsure whether Voldemort himself believes this or if he is just a power hungry maniac. Voldemort resents muggleborns, and he resents muggles as well.' _

'_Why, considering all this, Mr. Dumbledore, would you send your child off for 9 months out of the year to live with perfect strangers?'_

'_Because, my dear, Hermione is not just a child, she is a muggleborn witch and she will be a muggleborn witch whether she attends Hogwarts School or not. She will be a muggleborn witch whether she is educated to her fullest potential or not. She will be a muggleborn witch and she will be seen as a blemish on wizarding society to Voldemort and his followers whether or not you send her to Hogwarts. The question is would you rather her learn to defend herself and explore her abilities midst being in possibly the safest and most protected location in Britain and then be exposed to the horrors of war and prejudice, or would you rather her never become who she is fated to be, and still be exposed to the horrors of war and prejudice? The choice is yours, Mrs. Granger, I only hope you make the right one.'_

'_When you put it like that, Albus, I find that it's impossible to deny Hermione this right.' Her mother had looked at Hermione then and saw, for maybe the last time, the little girl in her. The unruly brown locks that Jane Granger was sure would one day be tamed into lustrous curls, the honey brown eyes that held flecks of cinnamon in their sweet depths, the tiny body that lacked curves but contained the potential to one day drive men wild. For now though, she saw only her baby. The baby who had burst into the land of the living after 15 agonizing hours of labor at exactly 11:11 pm. The baby whose first words had been a soft coo of 'mama'. The toddler who, when learning to walk, had tried to run and immediately met carpet. The toddler whose favorite toy had been her mother's spatula. The little girl who had refused to wear pink due to the fact that Barbie wore pink and Barbie embodied chauvinistic ideals of what women should look like. The little girl who'd just the day before devoured "Sarum" by Edward Rutherford like it was the Chronicles of Narnia. Jane knew that sending Hermione to Hogwarts was the best thing for her daughter, but she wondered what that would do to their relationship. _

Reminiscing had taken longer than usual, and Hermione Granger was now officially about to be late and she had yet to find her blasted left shoe.

"Mum! Have you seen my left shoe?"

"Which shoe Hermione?"

"My school shoes, mum!" Within a few moments, Jane stuck her head inside her daughter's room. The walls were covered in an array of band posters, ranging from the Ramones to Goldfrapp, from Franz Ferdinand to Muse. There were pictures scattered around, some of Hermione and her muggle friends, some with moving frames depicting scenes with her friends from Hogwarts. Silently, Jane lifted up a plain black Mary Jane shoe- a left shoe. "Oi, thank you, mum!"

Hermione was no longer an adolescent, with all the time she spent away it was hard for Jane to pin point when exactly that had changed. But now, it was obvious that the female before her was almost entirely woman. A single tear was allowed to escape the confines of her eyes before a slightly wrinkled hand wiped it away. Her daughter was a woman, and this year, Jane knew, would mark the end to any childhood still left inside her daughter.

**Thoughts from the minds of the crazy characters we know and love**

Draco: I am a devilishly sexy beast aren't I? You're such a sexy beast Draco I just want to shag you.

Hermione: If only I could just decrease the viscosity by 1.31 then….

Harry: Snitch. Must have that snitch. Mmmm Ginny. You smell like apple pie, and vanilla. And tapioca pudding.

Ron:………………………………………………………………………..boobs. hehe. Boobs.


End file.
